42

Titania

As we rush down the hospital corridor, Kristoff holding onto my hand, I remember what my uncle told me the last time I visited. I remember his shaky, excited gestures, his words — firm, fearful, all-knowing. How he had acted so weird. It was as though when I told him that Kristoff had gone to Tennessee to finish Adrian off, he looked relieved. Pleased. As though some heavy burden has been lifted off him. As though Kristoff had absolved him of his guilt. Like he could finally look at me without any lingering clouds in his hazel eyes.

All these years passed, and I thought he didn't know. I thought he didn't suspect. I care a lot about him — but with what happened in California, I could not stand to be around him. Which was the main reason I seldom came over to visit him, even though we talked every day. Which was why I never knew he'd begun working for the Mafia. I thought he told me everything, given the bond we share. But that was so hypocritical, even for me.

I didn't tell hi